AN: the first chapter begins. can you guess who this character is? it will probably become more obvious as this chapter goes on, as will the mentioned characters that are disguised by other names. enjoy.

requiem.

The clockwork was rusting.

She watched the little mechanical man go about his business as usual, moving robotically to make her bed. Pick up her clothes. Fix her dresser.

Turning away, she continued her walk down the hallway, clutching her precious doll to her bosom as she went. She didn't know why she bothered worrying about the little man, anyway. When he broke down, a new one would just magically take his place, continuing what the first one had done. It wasn't like he was alive. It must have been her surviving conscience, that was all. A shred, a whisper, an echo of her sense of humanity. Easily removable.

Feeling already tired of her stroll, she was relieved when she came to the main hall, where a soft, cushioned lilac chair was set by a table bearing her favorite breakfast – half a grapefruit, two perfect pancakes (like which she could never make), and even a single flower in a vase. She smiled. It was perfect. Everything was perfect. Her darling beloved must have woken up extra early to make it just for her.

Seated in the chair of her dreams, she began to daintily eat her wonderful breakfast and examine the flower. It was an anemone, she knew. How did she know?

Oh yes. It was someone's favorite flower.

Ashe's flower.

She stopped eating suddenly, and stared at the flower. A perfect, red anemone.

It's a flower for the dead, people say. But they don't see it's the harbinger of spring, the ender of winter. It's the first to pop up for the spring, way before the crocuses, even.

She grabbed at her sweet doll, clutching it to her chest. That voice – a sisterly voice with the patience to explain a flower's nature to a naïve six-year-old.

But it's because of that earliness that they always die. The snow's still there when they come... so they usually die. I'm lucky if I can find one untouched by the frost. Red ones are the hardest to find, though. I've only seen one, and even then it was dead.

She pushed away the breakfast, hoping it would fall, would shatter, would break into a million splinters just like her heart had. But she didn't want to kill the anemone.

Ashe had never seen a red anemone as beautiful as this one.

I still love them, though. So beautiful, even for only a little bit of time. So faithful, always coming up for spring even though it really isn't here, and dying because of it.

The table didn't fall. Neither did the anemone. She was no longer hungry. Tightening her death-hold on her treasure, she briskly left the room. She tried to replace her memories with other thoughts.

What should she do today? Maybe a walk around the gardens would do her good. No. They had anemones in the garden, obviously, as there had been one with her breakfast. How could her dearest have done such a thing, to stir up those forgotten memories?

She was quickly ashamed. He was not at fault – he had never known about the anemones, about their relation to Ashe. It was not his fault at all. Perhaps a beach trip today, then. Her darling always did love the sea, and she did too. It was always so calming, warm, and gentle.

She walked to the arched back door in the back of the castle. She had always wanted to live in a castle – it had been a childhood fantasy – but now that she really was living in one, patrolled by countless mechanical servants and with magnificent food and beautiful dresses, this perfect world made her feel light and free.

Already she was at the beach. This did not surprise her, though, as she had only to wish where she wanted to be and she would be there. She stepped on the sand, acknowleding the warm but not blazing heat seep into her bare feet. She grinned, feeling better already after the morning incident. Oh, this was glorious. She hoped her dear was having as good of a time as she was. She glanced to the side to see if he was happy, and, indeed, he was. That beautiful smile she loved so much was beaming right back at her, showing her he loved her as much as she loved him. She felt wonderfully light, being here on the beach with the one she loved most in the world, smiling at her. She hugged him as the red light of sunset shone down on them. Sunset already? Ah well – she remembered that time really did fly when one was happy. Who had said that to her? A man... a man who had been her maybe- brother. Kyre had. Kyre and Ashe had said that when they were there, sitting on the bench in front of their house, and she had gone to tell them it was dinner time.

What? Dinner already? Jeez...

No... no, she did not want them here. She did not want their words of the past to come to her perfect future. She stood up with a jerk.

Well, time does fly when you're having fun, right?

She broke out running across the beach, hair flying, running from memories and towards her castle, her last sanctuary. She was out of breath when she reached the archway, panting ferociously. She had won. The memories had lost chase. She was safe again. Though she felt hungry, she did not turn to the dining hall. She went straight to her room, where the clockwork servants still milled about, cleaning the hallways and the chamber. She felt an unusual sickness in her stomach, as if seeing them made her hurt. She wanted to get rid of them, but she couldn't. Feeling annoyed, she jumped into her nightgown and into her bed, where she curled into a ball and seized the doll with desperate strength. She tried to quell her rising fear, but it was difficult as she didn't know what she was even afraid of. All she could do was hug her treasure and hope the fear would leave her to sleep.

Her dreams were haunted. Blood-red flowers and quick sunsets circled around in her head, calling forth other memories, of a girl who liked light silk ribbons and a man who wore an eyepatch. And then came the boy with the straw hair and sky eyes, with the beautiful sun-smile that made all her fears go away. She remembered seeing the flowers die, the nights come. She remembered the ribbons ripping and the eyes close. But then she remembered the sun-smile ending, the light going out, her world being plunged into darkness without the sun. Her heart shattered again, like she had hoped the table would. But she had hung on to the last shard, her only prayer, and had fallen into a beautiful dream. A beautiful place, with red flowers. Quick sunsets. Blue ribbons. Hidden eyes. And a doll, a beautiful doll with straw hair and sky eyes and a sun-smile. A beloved doll. A darling doll. A treasured doll.

A clockwork doll.